Chapter 4
I held the paper so tightly that it began to wrinkle.
Five hundred thousand dollars.
Transferred one day before my father died.
And my mother's name was attached to it.
I looked at Uncle James.
"Did Dad know about this?"
James nodded.
"He called me the night before he died."
My heart hammered.
"What did he say?"
James stared at the floor of the ambulance.
"He said he discovered money moving through accounts he didn't recognize."
I swallowed.
"And?"
"He said he was going to confront Diane and Robert."
My stomach twisted.
"Did he?"
"I don't know."
James looked at me.
"That was the last time we spoke."
The words hit me like a punch.
I remembered that evening.
Dad had come home late.
He looked exhausted.
My mother met him near the stairs.
They argued behind their bedroom door.
I couldn't hear everything.
But I remembered one sentence.
Dad shouted, "You've gone too far this time!"
My mother answered something I couldn't understand.
Then the house went silent.
The next morning, Dad collapsed.
I had been in class when the hospital called.
By the time I arrived, he was gone.
I looked at James.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
His eyes filled.
"Because Diane said Richard was confused."
I stepped backward.
My mother had used the same explanation with everyone.
He was stressed.
He was confused.
He was paranoid.
And we'd believed her.
At Arthur's office that afternoon, I placed the document on his desk.
He studied it carefully.
Then called a forensic accountant named Rachel Simmons.
Rachel arrived an hour later.
She examined the transfer records.
"This payment is unusual."
I leaned forward.
"Why?"
"Because it appears to have passed through a company that performed no documented services."
Arthur frowned.
"Can you identify the company?"
Rachel nodded.
"Morgan Strategic Holdings."
I clenched my jaw.
"Robert's company."
She looked at me.
"Yes."
Nia sat beside me, listening closely.
Rachel continued.
"This payment is separate from the earlier transactions involving the Williams ownership interest."
I rubbed my face.
"So there could be even more missing money?"
"Possibly."
Arthur folded his hands.
"We need a complete audit."
I looked at him.
"Do whatever you need."
He nodded.
"Your father already authorized an independent review before his death."
I stared at him.
"Then why hasn't anyone done it?"
Arthur looked uncomfortable.
"Some company records were withheld."
"By whom?"
He hesitated.
"Your mother was the acting executive officer after Richard died."
Of course.
My mother controlled the company.
She controlled the documents.
She controlled the family story.
And she had spent six months telling me everything was fine.
I suddenly felt sick.
"Is the company in trouble?"
Rachel looked at Arthur.
Then back at me.
"We don't know yet."
I stared at her.
"Please don't protect me from bad news."
She nodded.
"Then I'll be direct. We have reason to investigate whether substantial company funds were diverted."
Nia reached for my hand.
I felt as though the floor was disappearing beneath me.
My father built Carter Development from almost nothing.
He worked weekends.
He missed vacations.
He taught me that a person's reputation mattered more than their bank account.
And now people he trusted might have destroyed everything.
Arthur leaned forward.
"Malik, there's something you need to understand about the inheritance."
I looked up.
"Your father didn't simply leave you shares."
He opened another document.
"He placed his controlling interest into a trust with you as the primary beneficiary."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"To protect the company from unauthorized transactions until the estate issues were resolved."
My heart accelerated.
"Does that mean Mom doesn't control it?"
Arthur nodded.
"She remains involved in certain management matters, but she doesn't own the controlling shares."
I stared at him.
"Then why has everyone been treating her like she owns everything?"
"Because the trust documents weren't scheduled for disclosure until your nineteenth birthday."
I swallowed.
My birthday.
The celebration.
My mother's fury.
Suddenly, it made sense.
She knew her control was about to end.
I looked at Arthur.
"What happens now?"
"We can petition the court for appropriate protective orders and a review of the company's management."
I nodded.
"Do it."
That evening, I called my mother.
She answered immediately.
"Malik, baby."
Her voice sounded sweet.
Too sweet.
"Mom, where's Uncle Robert?"
Silence.
"Why?"
"I need to talk to him."
"He's out of town."
"Where?"
"Business."
I closed my eyes.
"Mom, stop lying to me."
Her voice sharpened.
"Don't speak to me that way."
"Then tell me the truth."
She sighed.
"You've let Arthur poison your mind."
I felt anger rise.
"Arthur didn't forge documents."
Her breathing changed.
"Malik..."
"Arthur didn't take Nia's mother's money."
"That situation was complicated!"
"And Arthur didn't transfer five hundred thousand dollars the day before Dad died."
Silence.
For several seconds, I thought she'd hung up.
Then she whispered.
"Where did you get that information?"
I looked at Nia.
She was watching me carefully.
"Does it matter?"
My mother's voice changed.
"Malik, listen to me. You need to stop asking questions."
My chest tightened.
"Why?"
"Because you don't understand what you're getting involved in."
I stood.
"Then explain it."
She began crying.
"Your father was going to ruin everything."
I froze.
"What?"
She immediately stopped.
"That's not what I meant."
My heart pounded.
"Mom, what did Dad find out?"
She whispered.
"I can't tell you over the phone."
"Then meet me."
"No."
"Mom!"
Her voice cracked.
"Robert won't let me."
The words silenced me.
I stared at the wall.
"Uncle Robert is controlling you?"
She began sobbing.
"Malik, I'm sorry."
Then I heard a man's voice in the background.
"Diane, who are you talking to?"
Robert.
I recognized him immediately.
My mother gasped.
The phone disconnected.
I stood motionless.
Nia approached.
"Malik?"
I could barely speak.
"Robert's with her."
She touched my arm.
"What did she say?"
I looked into her eyes.
"She said he won't let her talk."
Nia's expression changed.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from my mother's number.
COME TO THE HOUSE ALONE IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH.
I stared at it.
Another message appeared.
DON'T BRING ARTHUR.
Then a third.
AND DON'T TELL THE POLICE.
My hands began shaking.
I looked at Nia.
May you like
Something was terribly wrong.
And I had a feeling the person sending those messages wasn't my mother.
